


Prices Paid

by oly_chic



Series: Prowl Week 2020 [5]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, M/M, The Transformers: Sins of the Wreckers, Therapy, prowl week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oly_chic/pseuds/oly_chic
Summary: Prowl struggles with the cruel decisions he's made despite his good intentions. Ratchet can see pain inside him, and knows he needs help from their residential therapist.
Relationships: prowl/mesothulas (mentioned)
Series: Prowl Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709596
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33
Collections: Prowl Week





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**Author's Note:**

> Prompt "Command," sort of interpreted as “order” by one of the few who have command over Prowl.
> 
> Takes place shortly after the flashbacks in SotW. That means current time is after Ostaros got shoved out the door to become Springer.
> 
> Going to try keeping this version of Prowl in line with Roche's SotW Prowl but with a twist for his troubled mindset, so not the normal Prowl I write. A bit more emotional when things don’t go his way, made worse by depression.
> 
> Note that TFWiki talked about how taste for a transformer is probably more of an electric sensitivity ([link](https://tfwiki.tumblr.com/post/160782940353/does-energon-has-flavors-like-some-having-a)), so that's what I'm going with for this fic specifically.
> 
> I don't own Transformers.

_'Attention all Autobots,'_ the posted bulletin read, ' _Due to the recent quality in standard military grade energon, Medibay requests all members of this base to report to Medibay for a software patch that limits electric sensitivity. It'll reduce having to live with the current flavor. - Ratchet, CMO'_

Prowl stood there with a small frown. Request wasn't an order, so his first choice was to not waste time getting a patch purely meant to make fuel more palatable. Of all of Prowl's problems of late, flavor was not even on the list.

The list was too long, he bitterly mused. Now that he was trying to do the ethical thing, his problems with ensuring Autobots winning were more difficult. His efforts to be ethical were born out of unethical behavior, and the irony wasn't lost on him. In fact, it was nearly consuming him. If only Mesothulas hadn't gone mad with dirty inventions that Prowl thought up, if only he hadn't validated Mesothulas by using them, if only he never had to worry about Ostaros, if only he didn't owe Impactor a favor for his inabilities, if only... if only...

From that point on he kept dismissing Ratchet’s bulletin until nearly two deca-orns later he received a comm message directly from Ratchet. ::Prowl, get to Medibay now for your electric sensitivity limiter patch. And you know what I mean when I say 'now.'::

::Why are you trying to command me to do something as unnecessary as addressing a flavor issue? I have more pressing matters.::

::Because anything that keeps you from avoiding refueling, or causes you to pretend you forgot to refuel, is something that's mandatory for you. Be here before I finish my shift, which is in two joors.::

Prowl frowned, something he was recently doing a lot more often. ::I'm busy.::

::I heard you're busy moping around lately. If you can mope or brood in your office, you can do it here while I install the patch.::

::I am _not_ \- ::

::Save it. I don't actually believe you're moping around,:: Ratchet cut him off, and Prowl swore he heard Ratchet's optics roll. ::Being cross, sure, but you've never moped around me and we've known each other for a long time. Now get here before I call Prime.::

He made it down there in one joor and seven breems. Reports didn't wrap themselves up, and even now he was carrying one despite that not being a normal habit. Maybe he could have saved his progress at a natural pausing point but it wasn't in his nature. He didn't know what was in his nature anymore, other than what others called a workaholic.

"Finally," Ratchet grumbled as Prowl entered. The medic pointed to a berth in the far corner. "Sit down on that berth in the back. It's plenty busy up front."

There was curiosity on Prowl's part as to why any privacy mattered for a regular software patch, but he was inclined to take advantage of not being around others. Following necessary orders made life somewhat easier right now, too.

Ratchet connected a machine to Prowl’s neck and started it up, but much to Prowl's chagrin, Ratchet decided to have a conversation. "This machine upload and configures the patch. Does all the work, but I have to monitor it in case something happens. So... what have you been doing lately?"

"Working, per usual."

"Doing anything to relax, like those logic games and puzzles you do every so often?"

"How do you know about those?" Prowl answered the question with a question. He did those on his own so he didn't understand how Ratchet could know.

"I hear things. Mechs get talkative when they get bored here. What puzzle are you doing lately?"

What was he doing lately? Fact was he couldn't remember anymore, he spent so much time obsessing over what he could've done differently in all things involving Mesothulas, including what could have been between them if Prowl found another solution to Mesothulas's inventions. Not to mention that every thought after remembering Mesothulas’s inventions meant remembering Ostaros.

Unbeknownst to Prowl, his optics had slightly dimmed and there was just a tiny bit of a slouch in his shoulders. A quick glance to the berth's surface and then back to Ratchet's general area instead of actually Ratchet spoke just as much as the dimmed optics.

"I've done a variety of things, but nothing in particular stands out."

Ratchet hummed, "Anyone the reason for your distraction?"

"Distraction? What distraction? There's no distraction," Prowl insisted.

"So there's no one or no puzzle keeping you busy during your downtime?"

"You know I hardly have downtime."

"Hardly doesn't mean none," Ratchet pointed out.

Prowl's optics flickered and then settled to Ratchet's side. "Recent events make it difficult. The numerous new recruits require me to learn them so I know how to use them for their skills and assets, and that takes up a great deal of my time."

"Right, those who once lived in Carpessa, but don't now thanks to that Decepticon bomb."

Prowl thought he hid his flinch, but Ratchet's suspicious helm tilt made him think twice. "How much longer?"

"Another breem or two, depending if there's any hiccups in the setup."

Not long enough to ask to recharge through it, but long enough that Ratchet wouldn't be silent for the duration. Nevertheless, he tried. "I have a minor helmache. It doesn't need medical attention, but some quiet would help."

Ratchet shifted his stance. "Depending on the symptoms of the minor helmache I might give you quiet time. Where’s it located? Is it frequent? Is that why others have been calling you broody?"

"I am not brooding," Prowl argued. "It takes a lot to concentrate with these helmaches, and it's hard for me to recharge as well."

Ratchet quietly hummed. "Has it impacted your appetite for refueling?"

"Is that a symptom of helmaches? And anyways, like you pointed out, I don't do a good job at proper refueling."

"I meant has it been worse lately?"

"I suppose," Prowl admitted.

There was a short pause. "You know there's no reason to feel helpless about the Decepticon's bomb on Carpressa, right?"

He did a double take. "Where did that come from?"

"Just a hunch."

"Well your hunch is wrong," Prowl said as his upper body swelled, sudden anger taking him over. "I know not to feel helpless. I did everything I could. Granted there were no warning signs, so I could do nothing, but afterwards I did everything." As sudden as the anger came it was gone just as fast. "I don't know," he muttered, "maybe I was a little helpless."

"Do you feel helpless reading the reports on it? Is it hard to concentrate on something so bleak?"

"I don't know why you would suspect that." Prowl immediately felt guarded.

"Take this whole patch thing as an example. When I say 'now,' you usually get a few reports done within a half of a joor. You were here later than that and you're still carrying around a report. That means you aren't done."

"My concentration may have decreased somewhat, but given the circumstances and my helmaches, it's entirely understandable," he defended.

"Uh-huh." Ratchet opened his mouth to talk, but then the computer beeped. "Looks like we're wrapping up here. Another few kliks and I can disconnect you."

"Good."

For the few remaining kliks Ratchet studied the readouts. "Well, the good news is the patch is successfully installed." Ratchet reached for the cable. "Bad news is I'm seeing health signs that warrant further checks."

"What do you mean? Am I ill?" He was worried he actually did have something.

The cable came off with a soft click. Ratchet put it away and then looked Prowl soberly in the optics. "Prowl, you need to see Rung."

"Exactly what _medical_ problem do I have that needs a therapist?"

Ratchet looked like he wanted to cross his arms, but he didn't. "I didn't say medical problem, I said health signs, or health concerns. You're exhibiting several signs of need for mental health support."

Prowl stood up, anger rising up and he didn't bother hiding it. "I do not need some know-it-all doctor telling me things about me, because here's a fact, Ratchet - you do not know it all. You don't know me, no matter how long we've known each other. I'm done here."

He only made it a step away from Ratchet when the CMO said, "I'm ordering you to see Rung within one deca-orn."

Prowl whirled around and stared at Ratchet. Before he could recover and fight, Ratchet continued, "If I hear from Rung that you never showed or had a full session, then I'll order a checkup due to my observations and I'm sure I'll find something to put you on light-duty until Rung declares you well."

Now in addition to anger there was shock and disbelief. "Don't do this. I'm fine."

Ratchet shook his helm. "I'm no know-it-all, but I know plenty to spot your symptoms from afar."

"Symptoms of what?" Prowl interrupted.

"A depressed state. Between your answers to my questions and your reactions, they are all signs of mental health concerns. But that's not something I normally handle. Rung can assess it better so I'm leaving it to him. Just get to Rung soon, alright?"

"Like I have a choice," Prowl spat. He knew his outspoken anger was uncharacteristic of himself but that's the way things had been sudden of late. He didn't understand it, but he knew it was there. Perhaps that was one of the reactions Ratchet was referring to a moment ago.

His feelings of anger, disbelief, shock, and tiredness kept with him for two more orns until Prowl could take it no more. With everything going on inside of him and Ratchet's remarks/order, it was best to get to get this over with and see if maybe a therapist could offer some tiny bit of help. Truthfully Prowl only listed to Rung for his assessments in assignments, so Prowl was not excited to be the subject of Rung's other duties.

It felt like a great weight was on his finger as he pressed his comms button to hail Rung. The therapist answered after a few kliks, no doubt getting over his surprise. ::Hello, Prowl. Is there an assessment of someone you need from me? I wasn't aware there was anything going on right now.::

::No, its...:: Prowl took a deep vent. ::Ratchet believes I have some sort of 'mental health concern' that may be more fitting of your expertise. All he said was it involved being in a depressed state. I disagree with that but he's given me an order and an ultimatum. Please schedule me for an appointment within this deca-orn and inform Ratchet so he knows to not get on my case.::

::Certainly, Prowl. Here are some appointments - ::

::Just schedule me for one. I don't care when. It'll interrupt my work all the same.::

::Okay.:: Rung was mute for a moment and then data was transmitted to Prowl. ::Here's your appointment, it's tomorrow. I'll let Ratchet know.::

::Fine,:: Prowl said as he closed the line. In the meantime he would focus on something else - anything else than what meaning of 'mental health concerns' may come to light in Rung's office.

* * *

He laid down on Rung's couch, his peds crossed at his ankles. He didn't like this position; it was too exposed. "I'd rather sit."

"Please, make yourself comfortable."

Immediately he fixed himself so he could coldly stare at Rung. "Did you talk to Ratchet?"

Rung nodded. "He knows you're here."

"Did he explain why he wants me here?"

There was a short pause. "He did and it's not much more than what he told you."

"What else did he say?"

"That you seem prone to anger more these orns," Rung revealed that Prowl's earlier suspicion was right.

Rung said something more, but the aforementioned anger started returning. With a bite to his glossa to keep from snapping, Prowl interrupted Run. "You're both wrong, I'm not prone to anger. I'm frustrated with the ongoing war, and that's something everyone feels. It seems to me that you're both picking on me because you want me to be your pawn in some game I've yet to figure out."

The therapist blinked behind his glasses. "Prowl, you are no pawn. Can't you trust us that Ratchet and I only want to help heal you?"

Thoughts of someone wanting to help him reminded him of Mesothulas. He froze, stuck on the thought of Mesothulas and what the scientist called "help."

"Prowl?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Prowl blinked.

"You froze. First you were angry and then you just froze."

"I see."

"What were you thinking?" Rung asked.

Prowl put on a tight frown. "Nothing you need to know."

Rung paused. "I think more importantly you need to get it off your mind by processing what has you going back and forth between anger and freezing. As Ratchet pointed out, what is happening to you is bothering you to the point of affecting your ability to handle your responsibilities and to enjoy time off-duty."

"That's absurd and publicly going through my private thoughts isn't okay with me. If you push it then I will leave."

"Doing so would keep it from being considered a full session," Rung pointed out. "And this isn't public; it's private between two mechs instead of just you. Anyone suffering from a depressive state can be harmed if they don't process what's happening to them. If you were seeing the signs you're exhibiting in one of your subordinates you would ask them to handle their issues by coming here."

Prowl vented deeply as he realized he wasn’t going to win this on his terms. Maybe some partial truths and some evasive storytelling would take care of this. He wasn’t keen on the false narrative, however, as he was trying to be good. Being good meant not lying.

He didn’t know how to do that, he realized. As he focused more internally, he folded his hands together by his chin while leaning forward. Could he not lie but not tell the whole truth?

“If I were to see signs of angry bursts I would likely have them consult you; in that regard you are right. I suppose I could try doing what you're asking of me, but don't expect me to unload everything. There is someone I’m concerned about,” he said while slowing down during his admission of a problem. Rung nodded for encouragement to keep going. “They went mad and it had to be addressed. That caused another mech to be left behind as non-aligned but I got him a place in the Autobot army.”

What Prowl left out about Ostaros was that Ostaros wasn't just some non-aligned individual, but also that they had a relationship. Although he tried denying it even to himself, ultimately there was no getting around feeling like Ostaros’s estranged father, or as much of one as possible with Cybertronians. Standing over Ostaros with a gun was chilling before he made a decision to make Ostaros an Autobot. He didn’t know if he made that was the right decision, or if he should have looked for a third option instead. Prowl gave him to a tough instructor who he hoped would teach Ostaros how to not die horribly at the hands of Decepticons. That was something he may never know unless he actively searched for Ostaros’s records as Springer, given that Springer’s position wasn’t high enough for someone of his authority level to be notified of death.

“Who are you more concerned about, this mad mech or the new recruit you made? We can talk about both if you want.”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t just Ostaros’s fate that he directly influenced, but also Mesothulas when he condemned him to suffer Impactor’s actions. That felt like a punch in the lower energon processing track, thinking how he betrayed someone who thoroughly trusted Prowl to be his partner in every way. They fed each other inspiration, and they also gave each other the emotional and physical closeness that Prowl craved. Mesothulas claimed he needed it too, but most often he talked about inspiration. “The new recruit might be fine, but the mad mech won’t be.”

“I see,” Rung softly hummed. "Do you fear responsibility for what became of them both? Or do you feel something else? Is the mad mech still alive?"

“I suspect he's still alive. I don't believe I have a fear of responsibility, but perhaps there is something. It's an emotion I don't like to process.” Prowl had condemned his ex-partner to a long life of compete misery and pain in the selfish name of seeking out his own redemption.

Prowl closed his optics to block out the thoughts, but that made it worse because it wasn’t Rung he was seeing anymore. It was Mesothulas and it was imagined images of him going mad in the Noisemaker. He shook his helm to dispel the images and tried to focus on something less awful. His desperation for something better to remember brought forth memories of being wrapped in Mesothulas's arms as they rested from enthusiastic romantic activities. He hadn’t had such an enthusiastic partner before, someone who cared so deeply for him. Prowl never got the answer whether it was love or lust for a partnership, and the answer he feared to be true was the worst one he could give.

“Can you bring yourself to say what the emotion is?" Rung asked.

It took him two tries to say the word for his own self-preservation said to stop. "Guilt."

"I see. Is it possible to get him help instead of what bothers you? Perhaps that might ease your guilt.”

“Not anymore.”

“Then you need to work through the guilt and accept what you’ve done. Then you need to learn to forgive yourself, if you cannot right what you believe to be a wrong.”

“How can I forgive myself?” It wasn’t fair to Rung that he didn’t know just how serious the offense. Rung probably thought Prowl threw the mad mech to Garrus-9. That offense wasn’t the softest sentence, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the truth.

“Process the guilt by working through why you feel that way, grieve what has happened, and then stop judging yourself for it,” Rung explained. “You need to focus on compassion for yourself instead.”

“You want me to process guilt and then grieve? Right here and right now?” he didn’t know what grief for himself for what he had done and become would look like, and he wasn’t fond of the idea of a witness.

“We still have three breems left for you to talk some more about the guilt and you can grieve privately if that is important to you,” Rung suggested. "If we do that I hope you do so somewhere safe and call me if it becomes too much."

"I'm not ready to share the details."

“We can start with talking about how you feel about thinking of the details. Start at the very beginning. What was your first feeling when the mech went mad?"

He felt betrayed - betrayed by Mesothulas for coming up with the Noisemaker anyway and forcing Prowl to act. "Betrayed."

That seemed to have caught Rung off guard since Prowl hadn’t mentioned ties to the mad mech until hinting at it just now. He recovered and asked, "How did you react to that betrayal? Did it leave it harder to trust others?”

_Yes_ , Prowl silently answered immediately. The revelation wasn’t something he realized until confronted by Rung's question. It was entirely his fault that he trusted someone to keep all his secrets without a negative outcome, he realized. Perhaps instead of the betrayal being all Mesothulas’s responsibility, perhaps he was the one guilty of it. He couldn't trust others to be able to withstand holding his secrets and there was a chance asking them to do so would lead to him doing something dark and untrustworthy. That was opposite of what he wanted. A painful twinge of his spark washed over him body.

More unwanted feelings rushed in as his thoughts went down that gloomy path, such as knowing there was someone else that he might become guilty of harming when Impactor called in his favor. At best he would only fail a potential victim. The only reason Impactor held a favor of him was because Prowl failed to have the strength to see his partner again with intent to – to _betray him back_. Primus, what had he done? So much possible failure in front of him, and so much failure behind him. It was all around him, and all because he wanted to try having ethics again. Was ethics born of blood-energon ever going to be ethical?

“Prowl, what are you thinking?”

Prowl snapped out of his thinking to Rung’s words, and realized there was a wet coolness to his cheeks. He touched his cheeks and found he’d been crying. “I… I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“There’s no reason to apologize,” Rung comforted him. “We have a little less than a breem left, but perhaps we can get started on something for you to positively think about before our next session.”

“Next session?” Prowl echoed.

“I know Ratchet said you needed to attend a session, as in singular, but it’s my strong recommendation you need more. Can you at least think about that?”

If it meant more tears in front of Rung, then he couldn’t. He might reveal his bloody and ever-changing sense of ethics, and why he was suddenly in need of some boundaries. Then again, he didn’t know how to handle the flood gates Rung had just forced open on him – or was it Rung’s fault he felt this way? He had been trying to bury it but then he was doing such a poor job that the CMO ordered him here. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Now, for our last few kliks together, I want you to think about the growth that may come of you seeking help.”

Prowl nodded but didn’t reply. Instead he wiped his tears dry and stood up. “I will let you know if I want another session.”

“Thank you, and I hope you do. Take care and call me if you feel unsafe.”

Prowl wondered if Rung knew he set off a new obsession for Prowl, an obsession to think how he could get through the pain he was stuck enduring. If he could get through it, then maybe a sense of ethics would be possible.

Abruptly everything was interrupted when he heard the alarm for attack blast in the hallway. He ran to command to assume his role, and as he run he had a persistent thought, how hopefully in light of these revelations that this war would not consume him again and seduce him to his old ways.

**Author's Note:**

> To any therapists reading this, I hope I haven’t done you too much of a disservice, as I’m an emotionally crippled being who’s longest running outlet is fanfiction about alien robots who are millions of years old and going through a seemingly endless war. Seems like a legit coping method.
> 
> (I'm kidding, and doing a whole week of posting has made me realize I need to do a joyful fic... later)


End file.
